


Common Blood

by QueenOfBelmair



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drug Use, M/M, Rewrite, Vague gore reference, Zydrate (Repo!), it's been a long time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfBelmair/pseuds/QueenOfBelmair
Summary: Blue (adjective) - 1. of a color intermediate between green and violet, as of the sky or sea on a sunny day; 2. (of a person or mood) melancholy, sad, or depressed.The only thing that can cure Mark's ache can only be found in back alleys, in the pocket of a grungy person who offers him the brightest blue he's ever seen.





	Common Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Original version posted under the username darkbluerain on LJ. See note at the end, please.

Walking the streets of Sanitarium Square in the dark hours of night, Mark heard nothing except the sound of his own dirty boots on pavement. No sane person (not that there were many sane people in this city) would be up at this hour. The only people he passed were Z addicts dazed on the side of the road. The usual backdrop of advertisements was so commonplace they were nothing to him anymore. Still, though, they buzzed in a constant hum.

“Deals, deals, deals! Free rhinoplasty with your third face lift!”  
“90 days inching closer? Sign up for a loan today! Don’t lose your head, literally!”  
“Discount surgery! You got the cash? We got the knives!”

Mark pauses, turns around to make sure he isn't followed. He's done this before, but while normally falling into a habit would make one more comfortable, it makes Mark more and more jittery. Every time something new causes his heart to skip a few beats, his feet leave the ground for a few seconds. Especially once he's in the alley. GeneCops alternated between stupidity that ran so deep their sperm must be swimming backwards to ruthless enough to kill you before the knife wielding nightmares even got there. His heart rate calmed once he realized it was just Portia.

He's seen her before, so many times. Fairy floss hair, the evidence on her chest from one too many times on the operating table, plum lipstick. She's nearly always right around the last corner, always staring at the wall opposite her. Serene. Numb. Just like all the rest. He continues on, trying his best to still his heart as he gets closer, closer...there.

They always meet in the same spot. Two posters hang up on the grimy brick wall. The first ad displays an all too familiar message.

_DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BE AN ORGAN REPO MAN?_

He may resort to the streets to numb his pain, but at least he had enough money to never fear repossession. His heart would be paid off in about another two weeks. There was decent cash that came with being the one to do the actual dirty work. But no, he didn’t have the stomach to eat off a table earned by ripping out someone else’s innards.

The other poster displayed the face of the very man he'd come to meet.

A hand covers Mark's eyes.

"Guess who?"

Mark is no longer surprised when this happens. He turns, looking into familiar sunglasses clad eyes and a mess of hair that any mother would kill to comb into place. The man’s nickname had sort of fallen into his lap once he began making a reputation for himself. Pickpocket, hired gun, dealer; a “jack of all trades.”

These meetings always began the same. Jack leans up against the wall, rummages in his jacket pocket, and pulls out a cigarette, using his other hand to search his jeans for a lighter. This pocket was also the one where Mark could see the faint blue glow of what he'd come for. While Jack leans his head back and takes a few corrosive puffs, Mark’s eyes wander back to the poster that displayed his dealer's face.

_WANTED FOR:_  
ZYDRATE PEDDLING  
VANDALISM  
PETTY THEFT

A $3000 reward was up for grabs for any information regarding his whereabouts.

"So kid, how much longer are you gonna be on this stuff? I mean, you've had the surgeries already." Jack's sunglasses slip down his nose, showing off his eyes. Blue was a lot less common these days. They were $1200 a piece at even the grimiest of surgery centers. The dealer claimed he’d been born with them, but in a world where beauty was as simple as a cash exchange, Mark had stopped caring about what was natural and what wasn’t.

"Or have I finally gotten you fully hooked? Am I going to have to start fishing you out of the gutter to give you your jolt?"

"No! I just...I don't know, I need the numbness..."

Being comfortable honestly wasn’t enough. The view from a well furnished apartment meant nothing when you were lulled to sleep by the screams of the repossessed. Mark had swam in a sea of pills and overpriced sex for years to try and make himself as closed off to the world around him as he could.

And then, that night at Amy's, he'd had his first hit.

Social gatherings weren’t usually his thing. But she had begged, tugged his arms and whined until he’d relented and come to the small gathering in her home. Amy wanted to celebrate her own recent surgery. What better way to show off your new face than a celebration in your own honor? Mark regretted his decision almost as soon as he stepped into the door. Hours passed before he figured he’d finally had enough. He actually had his jacket on and keys in hand when their hostess stood up on the table and began waving her hands to get everyone’s attention. Mark still wouldn’t have given a single shit if he hadn’t caught sight of the blue glow. She had somehow gotten her hands on the familiar glowing drug and the gun that administered it.

Amy’s hands weren’t steady. He still had a tiny scar on his neck, a constant reminder of his vice.

Jack waves a hand in front of Mark’s face.

"Hey kid? My money?"

Mark snaps out of his reverie, reaching into his wallet to pull out the cash and dropping it in Jack's hand. The blue eyed boy smiled appreciatively before pulling the tiny cylinder out of his pocket.

Zydrate.

Mark's eyes went wide with wanting at the sight of it. How could something that came from such a disgusting source be so intoxicating? He’d heard that there were junkies who were so unwilling to cough up the cash they had been found hovering over their overdosed friends with bloodied mouths and blunt objects. He was content with the less gruesome option. Jack began to circle Mark slowly, looking not unlike a raggedly dressed bird of prey, while he loaded the gun and hummed a tune.

"So where will it be this time?

And then he’s right there with his cheek pressed up against that of his client. Jack had to admit, out of all the addicts, Mark was the only one he enjoyed teasing. His lips ghost over Mark's ear, leaving behind barely there kisses.

"The neck, the hip, the thigh?"

Jack's final kiss is on Mark’s cheek, leaving the brunette blushing softly. He’s a sucker for a sweet talker. His eyes close in anticipation of the shock to his system. No pill or orgasm he’d ever experienced in his life was like the rush of Z.

"Thigh."

Jack smiles, leaning down on one knee and holding the gun up to Mark's thigh. One quick pull of the trigger and Mark feels the familiar jolt shoot through his body. He sways a bit while his body slowly goes limp with relaxation, and Jack catches him, laughing softly while placing a quick kiss to Mark's groggy smile.

"Sometimes I wonder how we ever got here."

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been out of the fanfiction game for a long time, but I used to be a very active member. As well as writing new original content, I'm going through my back catalog and doing some rewrites to fit with my current fandoms. This is one such rewrite. Plenty more to come!


End file.
